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Amy: Enough giving Lilly space.
Amy: You need to do something.
Amy: The girls and I are taking Lilly out for her birthday. Joe’s Bar at 7:30 p.m.
Amy: Bring your A game!
Oliver: Thank you, little sis. I owe you one.
CHAPTER 37
Lilly
The next few days pass by in a blur of breakdowns and breakthroughs. After my conversation with my parents and my debrief with Amy, I am beginning to see my past behaviour differently. I see a pattern of always presenting my life choices to my parents in a negative light, expecting them to react in a certain way and almost manifesting the result. I see also how in the past, I started my relationships with men filled with my own insecurities, always thinking the worst was going to happen, to be prepared for when it eventually did.
I think back specifically on my time with Sebastian. We were friends first, so I approached this relationship a little differently, but all the same tendencies appeared nonetheless. I started the relationship by being the “perfect” girlfriend, and then over time, I let my true self show. When that happened and he rejected me, I rationalised it was my actual personality that was the turn off. Now I realise all those guys had started dating a fake version of me, so of course they broke up with me once I changed. I had been misrepresenting myself from the beginning—am I like Grant 2.0?—always setting myself up for failure.
And that is why I have been struggling so much with what happened with Oliver. He knew me, the real me, so I struggled to believe he could ever fall for me. Even after spending that weekend with him where I could see the obvious affection he has for me, and with people around me telling me he cares for me, my insecurities would not let me believe that perhaps, one day, he could love me. And when he walked away from me, rejected me for someone I perceive as better than me, it was like picking at a scab on an old wound. It hurt. It reinforced the idea I have that I am less than or unworthy. So instead of hearing him out and letting him explain, I walked away. I left him before we were even anything real, before he could properly leave me. I let the fear that I am ultimately not enough drive me away from the one person who has always made me feel like more than enough.
And now, after all this soul searching, Amy is still insisting we go out tonight to celebrate my birthday. The big twenty-four. With things such a mess with Oliver, I cannot conceive of getting dressed up and being among people, but when Amy has her mind set on something, it is impossible to get her to budge. Like right now—she has just finished fixing my hair into relaxed waves and already has an outfit ready to go on my bed.
“Can we just cancel and have Madi and Sammi meet us here? We can stay in and watch a movie?” I ask, for the hundredth time, while she is applying my eyeliner to make my eyes look cat-like.
“No! You will not be a sad lady at home on your birthday. Not on my watch. We are going out because we are all young and we are all hot.”
“OK, OK,” I tell her in surrender. “Just don’t let me drink too much. I’m turning over a new leaf and vowing to make fewer stupid decisions in my twenty-fourth year of life.”
Amy laughs as she works on the next eye. “I cannot make any promises.”
After I force myself into some skinny jeans and a slinky top and shove my feet into a pair of heels, we make our way out to the new trendiest bar in town. We meet Madi and Sammi out front and skip the line, thanks to some VIP connections Amy made with some high-profile patient she had looked after in the emergency room last week, apparently. Once inside, we find ourselves a table and order a drink.
“To my best friend, on your birthday. I love you like a sister! Have an amazing birthday,” Amy toasts when we get our drinks. Madi and Sammi cheer, and I smile at their antics, taking small sips of my drink and looking around. The bar is full of good-looking men, but my eyes keep searching for one man in particular.
“How are you doing?” Madi asks me with some concern. I have brought both Madi and Sammi up to speed on everything from the wedding weekend and beyond, with many video chats taking place this past week. And while they have given me their full support, I know on the inside they are both team “Lilliver.”
“I’m OK,” I tell them. When they all look at me, unconvinced, I finally break down and ask Amy, “How is Oliver doing?” I was holding off on trying to extract information from her, not wanting to put her in the awkward position of being in the middle.
“He’s OK,” Amy replies, not giving much away.
“He hasn’t contacted me for my birthday,” I tell her, feeling a little pitiful as I say it and as Sammi rubs my arm to comfort me.
“You told him you needed space, and that boy is very good at following instructions,” Amy points out, ever the voice of reason.
I nod and feel sad that this is the case. “I know. I just wish he would fight for me a little. If he wants me, that is. Maybe he has just given up and is with Emma now?” I look at Amy, hoping to get a hint as to whether this is true. Amy has mentioned nothing about Emma since that fateful night when Oliver chose Emma over me, and I am desperate for any information as to where I may stand.
Amy waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Enough about boys. We are four strong, independent women. All our conversations do not need to revolve around men.” When the three of us give her a doubtful look, she continues, “Let’s talk about your pop-up café and the plans you have in place.” With this, I let myself get distracted from thoughts of Oliver and Emma. I tell my friends about what I have planned to bake for the inaugural café session, wanting their opinions on whether I am on the right track.
After an hour and two drinks, though the conversation has been lively and fun, I am ready to go. My friends have tried their best to make this a fun evening for me, with Madi offering to get phone numbers from the cute guys around us and Sammi attempting to coax a few laughs out of me, but my heart isn’t in it. In fact, my heart is hurting a bit too much to be here. As I tell the girls that I am ready to call it a night and go home, I hear the music tempo change from the thumping base of whatever latest pop tune is playing to the crooning first notes of Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect.” I groan at the irony of this song playing at this moment and bend down to pick up my bag, needing to get out of here. As I look up, the crowd parts, and Oliver is standing there. And he is smiling his dimple smile at me. I look at him and then at my friends, who are all smiling at me, giving me encouraging looks, and I slowly stand up and walk towards him.
“You did this? You asked them to play this song? For me?” I ask, astonished that he is here. I stare up at him, my heart racing, wondering if this is his grand gesture. Like in the rom coms I love to watch, where the hero does something romantic to win back the heart of the girl he loves. Could this be what is happening here? My skin tingles in anticipation of what is to come, and I lean towards him, desperate to get close to him after what has felt like a very long week apart.
“It seems appropriate,” he says, confirming my suspicions. He asked them to play it for me. I smile at him as he takes my hand, leading me to the dance floor. “It feels like our song.”
I nod, because that is how I think of it too, stepping into his arms with a sense of peace settling over me.
“I’ve missed you this week,” Oliver shocks me by saying.
My head shoots up at this, and I stop moving to the music to look at him. “You have?”
